Conversationally Yours
by Hectopascal
Summary: A what-if story if Harry became mute when he was little. How would Harry grow and change over the years if his only form of communication was through his telepathic link to Voldemort?
1. The Dursleys

**A/N: This is my first story so be gentle please. This is a short prologue and the first chapter. The next chapters will be longer I promise! ^.^ **

** Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's characters, settings, or plot lines… (Wish I did) and the idea for this story came from PlotBunny2010, who very graciously allowed me to write it.**

Thought = _blah_

Speech= "blah"

Prologue: The Beginning

As humans mature it tends to slip their minds that they too, were once toddlers. They forget that while having limited mobility skills, a young child still has a very sophisticated view of the world around them. The night Harry Potter's parents were murdered, he was just one year of age. At the time, he heard the cry of his father, James, as he fell, and he inhaled the warm vanilla scent of his mother as she swept him out of his crib and pressed him to her chest long after they had usually gone to bed. Already he was slightly confused at this break in their normal bedtime routine, even more so when he saw a man he'd never seen before, as he peeked over his mother's shoulder, point the same stick his mommy and daddy used to make sparks for him at his mommy and say _Avada Kedarva_ in a voice that sounded almost like a hiss. Harry felt himself drop back onto the soft green covers in his crib as his mommy fell to the floor. He rolled over to try to look at her but she wasn't moving anymore. The man dressed in black picked him up and looked him over as Harry did the same. The stranger didn't look nice, was his first thought, he wasn't smiling and hands didn't feel warm like mommy's and daddy's did.

The man pointed the stick at his face and Harry giggled childishly as his eyes crossed trying to keep the tip in view. He heard again the hissed _Avada Kedarva_ and saw a flash of light so bright it hurt his eyes. He wailed once as he again fell into his crib, as the darkness crept upon the edges of his vision, as it all went black. It would be a very long time before he would speak again…

Chapter 1: The Dursleys

He was standing in the middle of a large oval field. Towering stands rose above him as he spun laughing in place. He loved it here! The sky was the brightest blue he'd ever seen, there was a gentle breeze causing the grass to tickle his ankles, and there were the flying people again. The flying people weren't there all the time, so it was special when they showed up. They were almost always wearing a bright color as they zoomed high in air, leaving him to watch carefully for the flashes of different colors as they passed each other.

All of a sudden the ground began to shake and the colorful flying people disappeared. He stumbled and hit the ground as the shaking increased. "GET UP THIS MINUTE YOU LAZY SLUG!" _What?_ Harry opened his eyes to see the usual dull wooden beams of his cupboard. He glanced to the side at the door as his Aunt Petunia banged on it harder. "GET UP!" was yelled a final time and then retreating footsteps were heard. _I'm up, I'm up, you old hag._ Harry felt in the semi-darkness for clean clothes. Pulling on an old shirt and trousers, he climbed out of the cupboard to make breakfast, as per usual.

He relaxed a little once he was in the kitchen, the bacon and eggs were perfect, the toast was also perfect. He set the table neatly and efficiently before retrieving the pan to start prodding out the food just as his Uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley lumbered into the kitchen. Dudley was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a meaty hand and Vernon looked a bit disappointed that nothing he could see was out of place, giving him no reason to punish Harry for anything. He thudded down into his chair, which creaked rather alarmingly, as his miniature counterpart did the same resulting in a slightly less ominous creek. _That doesn't sound good._ Harry thought as he carefully placed the toast, bacon, and eggs onto first his uncle's then his aunt's plates.

As he went around the table to Dudley's side (and yes he did have a whole SIDE to himself) he saw a nasty gleam in his cousin's eye that did not bode well for him. With growing apprehension, he leaned over Dudley's shoulder and was more resigned than surprised when he was suddenly elbowed in the stomach. What Harry was not expecting, however, was that as he fell backwards to the ground, the frying pan and its contents would come down on top of him or that when he hit the ground his arm banged against the leg of his cousin's chair (which had put up with quite enough to this point, thank you very much) which caused it to collapse with a snap, which then caused the whale of a boy to fall on top of him.

Harry wheezed on the ground, staring at the kitchen tiles. _This isn't going to be a good day._ As his aunt pulled her "little Duddley-wuddley" to his feet Harry staggered upright and leaned against the wall, coughing. It was hard to breath and the underside of his arm felt like it was on fire. He glanced down to see it crossed with still sizzling bacon grease. _Great, just great._ He gritted his teeth against the pain, and attempted to sneak out the kitchen door, hoping that his relatives would be too preoccupied with Dudley. _A few more feet, just a few more feet…_

Sadly, it was not to be. "Boy!" came the roar. He winched slightly, this was going to be bad.

"Look at what happened to Dudley because of you clumsiness!" _MY clumsiness?_ Harry glanced around his uncle's bulk at Dudley, he looked fine, in fact, he was sticking out his tongue at him behind his mother's back while she was getting him some cake for being such a brave boy.

"What's the matter with you boy? Aren't you going to apologize to your cousin?" _Why?_ "Or to your aunt for messing up her nice, clean kitchen?" _Why?_ he thought again. _I cleaned the kitchen the last time and the time before that and the time before that too. And I'll be cleaning this up as well. My arm hurts, I want to leave._ Harry decided it would be best to just keep a blank face until his uncle wound down. He knew from multiple past experiences that doing or showing anything remotely resembling insolence only made it that much worse.

"So boy why don't you go over and apologize!" and he was shoved, none to gently, toward the table. Harry stood there for several seconds, wondering how to best go about getting himself out of this. _I wonder what he is expecting this time._ floated vaguely across his mind.

"Go on, say something. Anything at all." his uncle taunted him. _Ah, so that's what he's after._ Harry's expression changed minutely to reflect polite interest in his surroundings. He stared at his uncle and Vernon stared at him, each waiting for the other to break. Harry began to discreetly rub his left arm, hoping to elevate some of the burning sensation. It did not.

"So, you still won't admit your mistake?" Vernon asked, somewhat rhetorically. _That is moot point_, Harry thought disgusted, _It wasn't MY mistake and you know full well that I can't speak. And even if I could I wouldn't talk to a pig like you,_ he added as an afterthought.

"If a bad child won't admit his wrongs, then he must be punished," Vernon started, sounding slightly calmer, though wheezing slightly, likely from the exertion of shouting at Harry. _Oh, like being crushed by your obese whale of a son isn't punishment enough._ "go to your cupboard. No lunch or dinner until I decide you've truly repented your actions. Do you understand me boy?" _How about breakfast?_ Harry nodded slightly, not breaking eye contact. "You're just lucky that Dudley was not seriously injured." Harry glanced over at Dudley again. He was apparently in good enough heath to demand ice cream with his cake.

Harry left the kitchen without any resistance and did not bother to bang on the door when he heard the lock click after he crawled in his cupboard. He sat in the middle of his ratty blankets, tucked his knees under his chin and wrapped his arms around his shins protectively. _It's not fair! It's just not fair!_ His arm burned and his chest ached strangely and he was more than sure that he wouldn't be eating for a few days. He knew he had two slices of bread, a bottle of water, and an orange stashed under a loose floorboard that he slept on top of. They used to be kept on top of a board that ran across the bottom of the stairs, but ever since his uncle had 'accidentally' found his last emergency rations, he'd been forced to improvise since now his uncle has taken to conducting 'utility searches' at random, apparently checking for stolen goods.

Harry grinned, amused at the thought of him as a thief. _I did everything perfectly! It wasn't my fault! I try my best but even when everything seems to be going right something just has to happen to make things bad for me._ Like that time he'd been running from Dudley and his gang at school; he was almost home free when he saw a garbage can to jump behind but when he jump he'd somehow managed to land on the roof. Or the time where aunt Petunia had given him that embarrassing hair cut, shaving him almost bald but leaving his bangs to "hid that horrid scar." He'd dreaded going to school the next morning and having people laugh at him, but to his surprise, when he woke up it was entirely back to normal. Or the time when - he stopped and mentally shook himself out of it. _I didn't do any of that on purpose! It just sort of happened._ he trailed off into thought.

Frowning he opened his mouth and tried to talk yet again. He could feel his mouth and throat moving but for some reason no matter how many times he tried by himself, he just couldn't get the sound to come out. He'd tried to learn sign language once, but Uncle Vernon had put a stop to that quick enough. For one thing, he said, it was a sissy language and he refused to pay for his nephew to have lessons or even buy him a book so he could learn on his own. So at school he had a very nice aid that read his lips and told the teacher what he said. It was easier but a bit irritating because it felt like he just had to repeat himself day after day after day. Outside of school, people just tended to think that he was quiet and shy, since he mostly just nodded yes or no to asked questions and occasionally shrugged when he didn't know. It did get on their nerves after a while and his description changed from quiet and shy to inverted and antisocial. Harry didn't particularly care one way or another but it did irritate him when people wouldn't quit trying to get him to talk. He felt like shouting "Don't you people get it? I can't, I really can't!" But in the end he just stood there, silent as ever.

Lost in his thoughts he stopped and concentrated on what sounded like white noise in the back of his mind. After a second it abruptly came into full focus.

_What is happening? How long have I been gone? What is this? Where am I? What is going on?_ In a generally string that occasionally repeated.

_Hello?_ Harry cautiously ventured. _Who are you?_

The voice fell silent for a moment, and then came a guarded _Who speaks?_

_ I do. _Harry ventured._ Who are you? Why are you in my head?_

_ The voice was silent again. Why are you in my mind child? Do you not know who I am?_

_ If I knew who you were I wouldn't be asking, _Harry was a little miffed and hoped that went along with the words_, and I asked you first._

_ I am the most powerful dark wizard of all time. _The voice sounded smug and confident that Harry now knew who he was.

Harry thought for a moment. The only wizards he could remember were the Mickey Mouse one in Fantasia and the ones in library books_. Oh, so like Mickey Mouse?_

_ Who is this mickey mouse? I have never heard of such a wizard. _the voice said.

_How can you not have heard of Mickey Mouse? _Harry was a little horrified. Even he knew Mickey Mouse from the television shows Dudley watched every day of the week. Geez. _Where did you grow up? _The voice had to be worse off than him.

The voice did not bother to answer his question. _Listen to me child._ The voice did not sound happy. _I am the greatest dark wizard of the era and you will answer me. I am Lord Voldemort!_

_ Never heard of you. _

_ Wha-? How long could I have been gone to have children not know of my existence? _The voice did not seem to be addressing this toward him, but Harry thought it'd be nice to answer anyways. This was his first time actually talking to somebody and he was the most happy he'd ever been since he could remember.

_Well when did you leave?_

The voice was silent, apparently thinking something through._ Child, are you a muggle or a Squib?_

Harry could hear a certain amount of disgust directed toward the latter option. He didn't know what either of them were so he asked_ What's a muggle? _

The voice did not reply again. Harry waited but it still didn't come back. A little worried he concentrated harder._ How could this be? A muggle born maybe? How can he be connected to my conscious though? It seems impossible. _

_ Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt you, but are you crazy?_

_ What do you mean?_

_ I mean, normal people can't hear me, and nobody I know has ever said, muggle, or squib, or claimed to be magic. Well our neighbor once did, but some men came and took her away. My aunt and uncle said it was because she was crazy._

_ If I am crazy, then you are too for being able to hear me. No one has heard me for a very long time._

Harry pondered this notion briefly._ I-_

There was a loud BANG on his door that made Harry jump. "Boy!" He heard his uncle roar. "Get out here and cook us dinner!" _Yeah, I'll get right on that._

_ What was that? _

_ Just my uncle. I don't see why I have to make dinner if I don't get to eat any of it._

_ Why not?_

_ My cousin pushed me and then he fell too, and I got blamed for it, so I don't get to eat for a while. _Harry had been living with the Dursleys so long that this made perfect sense.

The voice did not bother to reply. Guess he didn't particularly care about Harry's problems. Harry shrugged and clambered out of the cupboard to make dinner.

_ Tom._

_ What?_ Harry opened the door to the kitchen the second time that day.

_ You may call me Tom. _

_ Okay then. Isn't that a much nicer name than 'Voldemort'?_ He started to wash the vegetables, then cut them cut neatly and efficiently.

There was no answer.

_ Talk to you later Tom._ Harry Potter had work to do.

**A/N: Kinda crappy ending I know, but I wasn't sure how to end the first chapter! Second chapter should be longer and out in one week. Hoping for consistent updates. Review! It is what gives me the energy to keep writing at 11 at night. The more reviews I get, the faster the chapters come out! XD**


	2. The Letter

**A/N: I am so very sorry about my tardiness. Please forgive this lazy writer who does her best. **

**Disclaimer: I disclaim…any right to owner ship of Harry Potter. Those reside with the talented J.K. Rowling who is richer than the Queen of England and lives in a mansion. Do I live in a mansion? No I do not. Nor do I own this plot idea, it was adopted from PlotBunny2010. **

Speech= "blah"

Thoughts= _blah_

A/N= **blah**

Chapter 2: The Letter

July 29 (3 Days to go…)

Down the street of Privet Drive, on a sweltering summer day, a scrawny child crouched in front of house number 4 pulling weeds from the flowerbeds. The weeds that had the nerve, the _audacity_, in their desire for life to grow in his aunt's garden. Harry rather sympathized for the weeds; in fact, he thought they should be able to grow wherever they pleased. They weren't at all ugly nor did they grossly out populate the colorful fake-looking flowers. They had to go simply because of what they were. It kind of depressed him actually.

_Quit your whining. They're just plants._ came the voice Harry had gotten so familiar with since they discovered the other's existence three years ago.

Harry sighed. _Yes, but they have every right to be there. And where have you been? I haven't felt you around in nearly a week._

_ I've been busy selecting a suitable wizard with a weak mind to become my temporary vassal._

Harry had, sadly, become used to these sort of comments. He still thought Tom was off his rocker when he tried to tell Harry that he was a spectoral entity located somewhere in Britain (he always managed to fail to mention where though) or when he said that he was a wizard and Harry was too. Though when he wasn't talking strangely Tom was an okay (despite a mental connection, still not Mr. social skills) guy, so Harry didn't mind too much. Despite the occasional threats of physical violence when he got his body back, Harry thought the two of them had become friends.

_And how did that go?_

Harry often played along with whatever Tom said because in the beginning when he didn't, Tom would get really angry and frustrated. He'd mention all sorts of horrible ways to torture and kill Harry, some of which were so explicit in detail, he worried that Tom was a murderer somewhere (he didn't yet know that Tom was and is, in fact, a murderer somewhere). Whenever Harry thought to remind Tom, in the middle of his death threats, that even if (heavy emphasis on the if) he were an all powerful dark force somehow turned into a semi-solid ghost-like thing, he still had to be civil to him because, unfortunately, he didn't have anyone else, Tom would get sulky and irritable and ignore him for a week.

_Well. I believe that soon I will be back to my full strength and old self. I also think that I will be able to see you soon._

_ Oh, really? Do tell._

_ No, I don't think I will. Something should be coming to collect you any day now._

_ And what might that be?_

_ You'll just have to wait and see now won't you?_

_ You think you're so-_

"Hey, who told you to take a break?" came a voice from behind Harry.

A rather hard knee in the back sent him, arms wheeling for balance, into the flowerbeds. _Ow_.

He squinted into the sunlight blinding him, and had high suspicions, based on the alarming large silhouette that it was Dudley who had pushed him. And from the smaller boys standing behind him, it appeared Dudley had brought his gang to play. _Oh joy._

"We're bored freak." _And what, pray, do you want me to do about that lardo? _"It's been a while since we've had a good old game of Harry Hunting, right?" _I don't think a week counts as a long while._ His cousin continued undeterred by the flat stare sent his way. "-and since we know you love it when you get to play with us, we've decided to graciously let you entertain us today." _Hmmm, graciously, a word with more than two syllables. Those fancy teachers had managed to drill something into that impermeable skull. _"We'll give you a three second head start. One-" Harry jumped to his feet, ignoring the sting of his scraped knees, turned and started running. "Two-" he glanced behind him, the gang had already given chase, so much for a head start.

There was not even a pretext of "three" as Dudley started his lumbering gait soon after his fellows had. _Guess those fancy teachers only go so far huh? I have my doubts on whether he can actually count to three or not. _

_ Your attempt at wit is unamusing. _

_ Yeah, well, you've got to take what you have. _Harry ran past the end of their street and turned down the next casting a swift peek behind him. Of the six, one had already dropped out. The rest would follow if he could just out last the fast skinny rat-like one named Piers. He poured on more speed, rounding a corner.

_My advice was to kill him._

_Your…advice…is messed up…in more ways…than one!_ It was getting harder to concentrate as the burning in his lungs increased as Harry flat out sprinted, trying to gain enough distance to discourage further chase.

Another glance said that Piers was wheezing and slowing down. _I'm going to make it!_ He slipped between two identical houses and rolled underneath a hedge, breathing slowly and quietly. He froze at the sound of sneakers slapping the pavement as the others ran past. He counted silently, _1, 2…3, 4….5…where's Dudley?_ A slower beat was heard approaching and passing his hiding place without further incident. Harry let out a quiet breath of relief and leaned back against the bush.

_Aunt Petunia's going to get mad at me for crushing her flowers…_ crossed his mind followed by,_ she's_ _going to get madder when I'm not there to cook them dinner._

_ Who cares?_

_ I care. You don't have to live with them._

_ I told you it would be better for the both of us if you would kill them._

_ How exactly does that benefit you?_

_ I won't have to listen to your whining anymore._

_ I don't whine! _came the indignant reply.

_ Do so. It's rather exhausting to listen to._

_ Well, I'm so sorry to bother His Highness with my pitiful troubles. You feel free to ignore me, and converse with everyone else somehow magically connected to your mind. I promise I'll return the favor._

_ Insolent brat!_

_ Yep, that's me. The insolent brat that just happens to be the only person you can talk to. _

There was silence while Tom, no doubt, composed himself not to start a mental screaming match._ Time for practice! _he said, sounding much more like himself.

_No way! I'm tired, physically exhausted. You remember what it was like to be physical Tom?_ He jibbed, hoping to derail the conversation before they got to the conclusion he knew was coming.

_I am ignoring that last statement. Just because your body may be tired, that is no excuse to allow your mind to be. When that something comes to collect you, you must be able to guard you mind in all circumstances._

_Why?_ Tom had long ago explained the concept of Occlumency and Legilimency, though he neglected saying why he felt the urge to make Harry practice keeping him out of his mind again and again. Harry had actually gotten quite good, to the point where he could shut Tom out if he really wanted to. All Tom had said the first time he'd accomplished this was a dry, _passable, now do it again_.

_Never you mind, now guard!_

Harry felt the attack coming and immediately threw up what he imagined as plates of steel. Smooth and unbreakable, forming a dome around his mind. When Tom had first started teaching, he didn't exactly take care to be gentle when he took down Harry's shields. Perhaps brutally ripping it aside with a certain amount of childish glee at the sheer destruction would be a better choice of words.

Waiting for the subtle probes for weakness he shuddered at the rather unpleasant feeling of smoky tendrils feeling their way all around his dome, inspecting it for any gaps or softness. Finding none, they retreated briefly in preparation for a brute force attack. Harry winced, as suddenly a force was slammed against the barrier, he and Tom agreed that this method lacked a certain amount of elegance, though Tom said it would be the most probable to occur if anyone every attempted to invade his mind. After the first time Harry had managed to prevent Tom sweeping aside his defenses like so much pitiful garbage, he had begun learning how to trap the opponent in his mind. Tom hadn't really explained how this worked, only saying that he would have to see for himself when it happened.

Harry pictured the steel, thinning, lifting, forming spikes that moved at will, harder, denser. When he felt Tom rushing forward for another attack, the spikes shot forward, bending to form a cage to contain the force. When Tom started to slip through the bars, he flattened the spikes connecting them to one another, forming a smooth seamless cube. He pulled the cube toward him and let it slide through the dome easily. Once done, he let the spikes retract back into the dome making in impermeable once more.

_So, how was that?_

_ You passed…..with the lowest possible mark._

_ You can't just give me a compliment can you? I, for one, thought that bit with the cube was brilliant._

_ No, no I can't. It would offend me on several basic levels. Don't you think it is time to be returning to that hovel?_

Harry glanced up at the sky, it had deepened to a dark purple laced with orange from the blinding blue while they had waged mental war. _Crap! I'm going to get such an earful._

_I thought we had already established this. _

Harry slipped underneath the hedge and edged out of the shadow of the houses. _Oh, shut up, would you?_

_ Be more respectful when speaking to me brat. _

_ Yeah, yeah sure. _Harry started walking down the sidewalk, toward the Dursleys home, dragging his feet a little because he was by no means eager to be shut up in his cupboard again without food or water. Having no illusions on what awaited him, he sighed. He would have at least liked to drink something before he'd been ushered out of the house with very specific weeding orders.

_You should not bother to worry. It will be here soon, tomorrow at the latest._

_ WHAT will be here soon? _

_ You'll see._

_ You have got to be the most infuriating, stubborn,-_

_ You have arrived at the hovel._

Harry looked up, so he had. Not looking forward to this, he climbed the steps and opened the door with a slight creak. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could get into the cupboard before the yelling started.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

_ Guess not. _

"What do you think you're doing? Dudley tells me you've ruined my beautiful garden, and ran away when he tried to be nice and invited you to play with his friends. I can't believe you have the nerve to waltz back in here looking like that, tracking dirt all over my clean hallway, after shirking your cooking responsibilities, and then try to sneak off to your hole without paying any respect to us! Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Harry blinked up at her when she stopped for air. _No…and I do believe that I cleaned the hallway._

She seemed to realize what she'd said, and that she'd be getting no response. This appeared to make her angrier, and with a certain amount of interest Harry watched her horsey face go a darker red.

"Go to your cupboard! No dinner!" she snapped, and then turned on her heel to walk away. "And we'll want French toast for breakfast in the morning." she finished over her shoulder with a sneer.

Harry climbed into his cupboard and shut the door behind him. He lay down and curled into his blanket.

_Well, that could have been worse._

**Time Skip to Next Morning**

Dudley had recently been accepted into Vernon's old private school, Smeltings, and the day before his uniform had arrived in the mail. That morning, as Harry set about concocting the best French toast to ever grace the Earth, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks, used for hitting each other while the teacher's weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As Uncle Vernon gruffly said that it was the proudest moment of his life and Aunt Petunia burst into tears saying she couldn't believe how handsome and grown-up her baby looked, Harry concentrated profusely on not doubling up in silent laughter as he sensed it would not be good for his bodily health.

Just as the French toast finished cooking, Vernon and Dudley came in the kitchen and sat heavily at the wooden table. After the last table had broken one unfortunate day, they had purchased a new one, a very expensive antique that was now ruined for further sale after Dudley was through with it. Vernon opened his newspaper as per usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he now carried everywhere, on the table. Harry had his own private suspicions that the poor stick had already had to endure a night clutched in Dudley's sweaty fist as he had thrown a fit when his mother had tried to make him put it away for the night.

Then came the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

Harry, who had just sat down to his sad looking portion of toast, glanced up, and raised an eyebrow. _Are you kidding me?_

"Poke him with your Smelting stick Dudley." was issued from the sports section of the paper.

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Island of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – _a letter for him._

Harry picked it up and stared at it. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends (except for Tom, and he wasn't sure Tom counted in this case because what use would he have for letters?) no relatives – he didn't belong to a library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, addressed to him so plainly there could be no mistake:

**Mr. H. Potter**

**The Cupboard under the Stairs**

**4 Privet Drive**

**Little Whinging **

**Surrey**

As he stared at the letter in shock, Tom choose this as an excellent moment to chime in with, _I told you so. Get ready, things are about to change._

**A/N: Mwahahahahaha! Cliffhangers are fun for nobody but me! Review..? Please? I tried really hard on this chapter and all my wonderful Reviewers are what kept me going to make it the best it could be. Review and you get a virtual cookie! A nice, chewy, chocolate chip cookie! You know you want that cookie! Get that cookie by clicking the button, go on, you know you want to~! XD**


	3. The Shack

**A/N: Good news! I have finished all my summer courses so more writing time for me! This means faster releases for you! More at bottom.**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim…any right to owner of the Harry Potter franchise (including books, movies, merchandise, etc.) I make no money from writing this and it's only for my personal enjoyment. Please don't sue me. Nor do own this plot idea, it was adopted from PlotBunny2010. **

Speech= "blah"

Thoughts= _blah_

A/N= **blah**

Chapter 3: The Shack

_What do you mean? Hey are you listening to me?_ Harry demanded when Tom refused to elaborate. He glanced down again.

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, hand trembling slightly, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hands by Uncle Vernon.

Harry made a desperate grab for it but missed. _Give it back, that's mine!_

"Now this has got to be a mistake, who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to snatch the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

Harry opted for a slightly more successful tactic; slipping from his place he climbed on the chair his uncle had vacated and made a flying leap for the letter. He almost succeed but Uncle Vernon's meaty hand whipped out faster than Harry had ever seen him move and seized hold of his collar. _So close._

Coughing, Harry winced when Vernon shook him slightly and croaked out, "Get out, both of you," while handing the envelope back to Aunt Petunia so she could stuff the letter back inside.

"I WANT TO READ THE LETTER!" Dudley shouted.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon and he grabbed Dudley by the scruff of his neck and threw them both into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Naturally Dudley landed on top of Harry. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but completely silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back telling them we don't want –"

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer…Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…"

"But –"

"I'm not having one of them in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

XXXXXXXXXXX

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard.

Harry stared the man as he squeezed his bulk through the door. Several questions were circling his mind, the most prominent being, _Where's my letter?_ and _Who's writing to me?_

The moment Uncle Vernon had successfully inserted himself into the cramped space, making it that much smaller, he began talking.

No one was writing to you, the address was a mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

Harry stared at him angrily. _It was not a mistake, it had my cupboard on it._ He made to get some paper so he could inform Uncle Vernon of this; he had none as his relatives had thought that him being able to ask questions would lead to nothing but trouble.

"SIT!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. Harry dropped back to the ground quickly. Vernon took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a semblance of a smile. It looked quite painful.

"Err – yes, Harry – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you're really getting a bit big for it…we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

Harry was quite sure his expression clearly translated his thoughts, _Why?_

Uncle Vernon skillfully ignored him. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken.

The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first ever television set, which he's put a foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it.

Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. They probably hadn't save for being shoved up there.

He got up and carefully avoiding anything laying about on the floor, walked over to look at them. Contrary to popular belief of his relatives, he was not stupid. He liked books, liked to read and write too, though he wouldn't be caught dead after the last time Dudley had found him reading. It was safe to say after paying the full cost for a new book for the library he was much more careful.

He ran a light fingertip over the spine of a row of books, feeling a little empathy for them having been stuffed out of sight and forgotten. Glancing at the titles, _'The Count of Monte Crisco'_, _'500 Tales by Edgar Allen Poe'_, _'The Grapes of Wrath'_… he didn't need to wonder further why Dudley hadn't bothered with them. They looked interesting to him though and he pulled down '500 Tales by Edgar Allen Poe' to read for a little while.

_Tom?_ he queried.

_What?_ Tom sounded irritated but at least he managed to reply.

_What was in the letter that made my uncle and aunt so scared?_

_Your family_, the words were said with much sarcasm, _would fear their own shadow if it were possible. They so not understand it so they are afraid of i_t.

_Okay, what exactly, in the letter did they not understand but got me out of my cupboard?_

_ You should be grateful. They are attempting to delay the inevitable. They think that by improving your living conditions they will be left alone. I highly doubt this as they were always very persistent despite what the families were like._

_ They?_

_ Go to sleep brat. There will be another one in the morning, wait and see. _

_ Tom..? _There was no reply._ Dammit Tom! I want to know what's going on!_

_ You will._

After that no amount of pleading, threatening, or harassment would provoke an answer. Sighing in disgust, Harry fell face first onto the bed and closed his eyes.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't _want_ him in there…I _need_ that room…make him get out…"

Harry sighed again and stretched. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up in here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with the letter than up here without it. He rolled over and propped up against a soft pillow began to read the first short story in the book 'The Cask of Amontillado'

XXXXXXXXXX

That night around eleven Harry threw off his covers and crept to the door. He had a vague plan in mind but it was far from infallible. With a scout alarm in hand (Dudley had been given one but broke the alarm, however the light still worked only a bit dimmer than it once was) he made his way down the stairs, mindful of where they creaked. He arrived in the living room with no incident and knelt in front of the fire place.

Flicking on the light he gently shifted his hand through the ashes under the gate feeling for something, anything…there! Harry pulled a smeared scrap of parchment from the grate and examined it closely. 'Supreme Mugwump' it read in curling script.

Harry shook his head in confusion. _What in the world is a Mugwump?_

Tossing the paper back where he found it Harry snuck back into his new room and resolved to ask Tom about it when he was in a more giving mood.

XXXXXXXXXX

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smeltings stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one here! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his fist.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley – go – just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room trying to initiate conversation with Tom who'd been unusually moody lately, gave up and focused on the thoughts going in circles in his head. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surly that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a , slightly more thought out, plan.

XXXXXXXXXX

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights.

_This is entirely unnecessary._

_ Tom, so nice of you to join me._

_ This is a complete waste of both your and, more importantly, my time._

_ Well I'm sorry for wasting your oh-so-important time._ Harry was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.

His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door. _Your plan has a severe flaw._

Harry came to an abrupt halt. _And what, pray, might that be?_

He got the impression of a weary sigh._ I thought disabled people were supposed to have enhanced senses. You are, clearly, the useless exception. Wait and listen, you might learn something._

Harry inwardly snarled at the self important voice but did as he was told. A few seconds later he heard the slow in and out movement of air that was not coming from him. A few seconds more and he saw a large lump laying in front of the front door. The breaths were coming from this and creeping closer, Harry saw his that his uncle was lying in front of the door in order to make sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do.

Harry shuddered. A few more steps and he'd have walked right onto his uncle's face. He shuddered again.

_Err, Tom?_

_ What?_ the smarmy voice sounded smug.

_ Thanks for, um, saving me there._

_Whatever are you talking about. Only you would take an attempt to insult your competence as aid. _this was clearly meant as a dismissal and an end to the topic.

_Yeah, sure._ Harry very carefully approached his uncle again.

_What exactly do you think you are doing?_

_Fixing the flaw in my plan._ he replied, taking extreme care and holding his breath as he eased around the slumbering form.

_I will not be held responsible for such idiocy._

_No one's keeping you here. _Harry made a face as he inched closer to the door. _Almost there…_

Harry palmed the doorknob._ Behind you._

_ What?_

Harry spotted motion in his peripheral as a hand seized his ankle with an iron grip. _Uh-oh._ He hit the floor as his feet were yanked out from under him and flinched at a familiar roar of, "BOY!"

_Ow._ Harry winced as lights clicked on upstairs and he stared back into his uncle's beet red face. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off to the kitchen.

_Well, that could have gone worse._

_How so?_ Harry was getting the sarcasm and disgust loud and clear.

_I could have stepped on his face. Think how much more angry he would have been then._ from the irritation radiating into his head Harry got the feeling that Tom was distinctly unamused.

Harry shuffled back into the hallway with tea only to see the mail arrive, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink. Before he could make a move, Uncle Vernon was rearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. Harry grimaced and handed his uncle the tea.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nail up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't _deliver_ them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

_That is not going to work._ Tom informed Harry with great disdain.

XXXXXXXXXX

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few were forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked and jumped at small noises.

_The man is cracking_, Tom sounded fairly pleased with the statement. Harry privately agreed.

XXXXXXXXXX

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth would want to talk to _you_ so badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

Harry shrugged, paying more attention to Tom's voice in his head.

_I told you they were persistent._

_You didn't tell me they would be so persistent as to drive my family insane._

_Yes, that's just too bad isn't it._ Tom didn't sound very sorry and Harry had a feeling that whoever they were, they were building into some horrible grand finale. Harry was also sure that he didn't want to be anywhere near his uncle when that happened.

_Yeah, too bad._

XXXXXXXXXX

On Sunday morning Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today –"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. The next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry jumped up to grab one when –

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, he slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling out great tufts of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes. We're going away. Just pack some cloths. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

Harry sighed. This was getting ridiculous. Tom had been hanging around much more than usual taking, what Harry suspected, to be a sadistic glee with the whole affair.

_Tom, how did they get up on the roof?_

_ Magic._ came the reply, as if it should have been obvious.

_Of course._ Harry had always shrugged Tom off when he went loony like now but maybe, just maybe, he had been telling the truth.

_Sneaky thing aren't you?_

_ I don't know what you're talking about._

_ You grabbed a letter back there, it's in your bag. You took it from under the door while you uncle was attempting to cease hyperventilating._

_Maybe I did._

_ Maybe you should listen to me this time and not do something so stupid as open in front of your relatives?_

_ Do I really seem that dim witted to you?_

Tom's silence spoke volumes. _Fine be that way…bugger._

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off….shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets.

Harry glanced down at his cheap watch. The glowing numerals read 10:58. He rolled of his bed, fully clothed and crept over to the corner where he'd dropped his bag earlier. Slipping between the fold of clothing, he grasped the parchment and pulled it out. He slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

_Damn, it's too dark to see._ He perched on the windowsill, and glanced down at the writing. By the lights of passing cars he made out the first words, _Dear Mr. Potter..._

The papers were ripped out of his hands by a smirking Dudley. "Dad, Harry snitched a letter!"

Uncle Vernon propelled himself into the room, seized the letter from Dudley who was attempting to read it, and tore it to pieces.

"You," he said pointing at Harry, "back in the bed!" Harry went. "And you," he said pointing at Dudley, "back –"

"I want to read the letter!"

"NO!"

Uncle Vernon stalked back into his room and slammed the door behind him. Harry was grumbling internally. _Why? Why would he have to wake up then? I was so close…so close…_

XXXXXXXXXX

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up the letter so they could read the green ink address:

**Mr. H. Potter**

** Room 17**

** Railview Hotel**

** Cokeworth**

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," Uncle Vernon said, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television."

Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday – and you could always count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television – then tomorrow, Tuesday, was his eleventh birthday. Of course, his birthdays were never actually fun – last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable shack you could imagine. One thing was certain; there was no television in there.

Tom was as close to hysterics as he ever got, he was quietly chuckling in the back of Harry's head at the misery of others.

_Shut up, would you?_

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

_This has got to be the worst place I've ever been. I don't think Uncle thought this out carefully. Do you think we'll go back home tomorrow?_

_ Unlikely._

_ Why?_

_ I believe they have had quite enough and are sending someone to collect you. I haven't seen someone so desperate to avoid the place for a long time._

_ How are they going to get to this place?_

Tom ignored him._ Hey, Tom! _Still nothing._ Arghh!_

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls off thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in ten minutes time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wouldn't fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters he'd be able to steal one.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds….twenty…ten…nine – maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him – three…two…one…

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

_Ah, so they're finally here._

_ Who's here!_

**A/N: This was originally longer but, I didn't know where to cut it off so…yeah. -_- I have the next chapter almost done though, and you should have it around next weekend. :D**

** Those more observant of you will notice that this chapter contains large portions of original text. I do not own this either. And I don't like using it for this because I don't have the patience to copy word for word. There will be no more of this in later chapters, it was only for this one and maybe the next one to advance the story as it should. It diverges almost completely from the original storyline when Harry gets to Hogwarts. Thank you all for reading, and special thanks to MasterYodaOfYaoi who was my 50****th**** reviewer! Yay! ^.^**

** Also thanks to the one person who voted on my poll. You made my day. Can my wonderful readers please leave a review for a starving author and visit my profile to vote? Please? I'm really not sure about it and would love your opinion. Till next week.**


	4. Diagon Alley

**A/N: Yes, I know I said I'd have it out last weekend, but I was in Canada. And there was a storm. That knocked out the Internet. And when I got home, there was an earthquake. No joke. And if you think its bad you didn't get your chapter on time try living with no email, no fanfiction, and no music. It was awful and I almost had a nervous breakdown. Anyways….Onward with the story! **

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of anything affiliated with the Harry Potter franchised. That belongs to the fabulously wealthy J.K. Rowling. The plot idea belongs to PlotBunny2010. I just adopted it out of the goodness of my heart. Feel free to praise me. :) **

Speech= "blah"

Thoughts= _blah_

Written= {blah}

A/N= **blah**

Chapter 4: Diagon Alley

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then –

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangles beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

_What in the…_Harry thought.

_Hmph. So they sent Hagrid._

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry peered up into the shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand you leave at once sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

_I like him,_ Harry confided to Tom.

_Yes, he's gullible and easy to manipulate. He'll be a good source of information._

_ You – _

"Anyway – Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it; inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry_ written on it in green icing.

Harry opened his mouth and tried to say 'thank you', but as usual it didn't come out. The giant didn't seem to notice though, he just kept talking.

"I haven't introduced meself have I? Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled up chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the damp hut with a flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a word as the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody else seemed about to explain anything, he rather timidly tapped the giant on his arm.

"Yes?"

Harry held up his hand and made several scribbles in the air.

The giant scratched his head, "Err, yeh want summit to write with? Why?"

Harry nodded, but then pointed over at the Dursleys for assistance with the explanation.

"Dursley?" the tone was dark, the unspoken question heard quite clearly.

"T-the boy doesn't speak. At all. Not since we found him." said Uncle Vernon, stuttering just a little.

"What?" the giant rumbled. "Tha's ridiculous. The boy talked jus' fine when 'e was just a baby. Harry is this true?"

Harry nodded, and made a scribbling gesture again.

_He's just as dim as I recall too._

_ Shut up, Tom._

"Ah, hang on o' sec'. I think I got summit here." the giant muttered, ruffling through his coat. After searching several pockets he came up with a crumpled piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink, which he then handed to Harry.

Harry bent over and hurriedly wrote, {I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are.} He held it so the giant could see.

_That's the best you could come up with? Pitiful._

_ If you aren't going to help the situation then just be quiet._

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

{No, I don't.}

Hagrid looked shocked.

Harry quickly scribbled, {Sorry.}

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

{All what?}

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy – this boy! – knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far, he had been to school and his marks weren't bad. They weren't great either because far surpassing Dudley in any venture was not wise if he wanted his home life to remain stable. He thought this better, however, to not share at the moment.

Hagrid turned to him and asked, a bit desperately, "Yeh can't mean ter tell me that yeh don' know anythin' about _our_ world? _Your_ world? _My_ world? _Yer parents' world_?"

Getting no reply from a queried, _Tom?_ Harry had to rely on other means of information.

{What world?}

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry, who was getting a strong urge to back away from the whole situation.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

{My parents weren't famous, were they?}

"Yeh don' know…yeh don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh _are_?" he finally said.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A far braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years."

Harry had the same feeling of watching a car rolling downhill. That initial innocent motion that gathered speed and force before bursting all at once at the bottom of the hill. He felt the conversation nearing the end of the track with a lot of speed, he just wasn't sure where he wanted to stand when it hit.

_What have they been keeping from me?_

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic while Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah. Go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard,"

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and whistling wind could be heard. Harry lowered his gaze to the floor and thought furiously. He was in concentrating so deeply he only looked up when he heard, "an' I reckon it be abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald ink to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

More questions were running through Harry's head than before he had read the letter. He eventually settled on, {What does it mean, they await my owl?}

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping his hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl – another, longer roll of parchment, and a fluffier quill than the one Harry currently held. With his tongue between his teeth he wrote a note that Harry could read upside down:

**Dear Professor Dumbledore,**

**Given Harry his letter.**

**Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.**

**Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**

**Hagrid**

While he was writing Harry took the opportunity to try to get some answers out of the one person who could hear him.

_Tom, you were telling the truth, all this time?_

_Obviously._ Well, he was replying, that was something.

_Who is Dumbledore? Where am I going? And how did he get here in this storm?_

_Calm down, and be quiet._

_I am being quiet. I'm always quiet. Can't talk, remember?_

_Do you want answers or not, ungrateful brat?_

_ …Yes please._

_I thought so. Dumbledore is not to be trusted, whatever anyone else tells you, remember that. The oaf over there will likely take you to London, and if you want to know how he got here, I suggest you ask him. Stupid boy._ was added almost as an afterthought.

Harry blinked as Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized he was wearing an unguarded expression of blank confusion and quickly schooled it into something more unreadable, except as polite interest.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"He's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted, "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like yerself stop him," he said.

_What's a Muggle?_

_ A derogatory term used for those unable to perform magic and unaware of its existence. These bunch you live with are the most disgusting example of them I've ever seen._

_ Oh._

Harry processed that, then filed it away for later use.

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon was saying, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. His family had _known_ he was a wizard? They had known about magic and hadn't said a word to him?

Aunt Petunia fixed her eyes on him as if she'd forgotten his existence in her terror, but the fear was fading being replaced with something Harry couldn't identify.

"You!" she shrieked suddenly, "How could you not be, my dratted sister being who she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that school – and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Aunt Petunia lose it like this before. He didn't especially feel anything except a faint wish that his Great Uncle and Aunt Evans were still alive, as he had a suspicion that he would have been shipped off to live with them.

She had stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had wanted to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – _abnormal_ – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry was feeling a bit numb in the face of such raw emotion thrown at him. He was running a phrase through his head that didn't sit quite right with him. He glanced down at the piece of parchment now clutched in his fist, _Huh? When had that happened?_, smoothed it, and carefully wrote one statement.

{You told me my parents died in a car crash.}

Hagrid leaned over to read it, and turned red.

"CAR CRASH!" he roared, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

The anger faded from Hagrid's face and he looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off to Hogwarts not knowing."

He threw the Dursleys a dirty look, "'speck I'll explain it all in the mornin'. It migh' take awhile."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and –"

"If he wants ter go, a Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER –" he thundered, "- INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley – there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back to them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one terrified one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Harry though that, given how Hagrid had entered the premises, a door wasn't much of a safety barrier.

_That was an amusing punishment, though not very lasting. I've always found that a permanent lesson is more likely to stick in the future. Besides, I agreed with your uncle on this particular point._

_ Be nice._

_ Me? Nice? You must be joking._

Harry looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn't a lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig already there wasn't much left ter do."

_Or your magical ability is so unstable it results in poor spell casting._

_Will you stop? I'm trying to pay attention here._

He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm – er – not supposed to do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff – one o' reasons I was so keen ter take on the job –"

_How he does ramble on._ Tom sounded like he was getting a great deal of amusement over the conversation. Harry felt a bit sorry for Hagrid. A bit.

_ Tom, I'm warning you._

Harry flipped the parchment over, he was starting to run out of room, and wrote, {Why aren't you supposed to do magic?}

"Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.

_Or senile._

_ Go bugger yourself._

{Why were you expelled?}

"It's gettin' late an' we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get yer books an' all that."

_Not even a decent evasion._ Oh yes, he was most definitely enjoying himself.

Harry sighed and gave up trying to make Tom behave.

Hagrid took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry's eyes opened nearly an hour after Hagrid had fallen asleep on the collapsed sofa. Sifting a bit of the coat off him, he squinted by the remaining firelight and reread the letter several times.

_Tom?_

_ What? _the answer came almost immediately.

_Do you ever sleep?_

_ Occasionally. Was that all you wanted?_

_No, you distracted me. I'm curious about some things here. Can you help me out?_

_ Why should I? I do believe I was told to, what was it? Oh yes, 'go bugger myself.' Figure it out on your own._

_ I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please explain this to me._

_ You realize I have other things to do with my time other than help you?_

Harry grit his teeth. So Tom was going to be deliberately infuriating was he? It was working but he wasn't going to let him know that.

_Yes, I'm sure you do. Very important things. I just thought that you wouldn't want me to get too confused and 'accidentally slip' that I have a voice in my head….named Tom….plotting world domination now would I? Would that rank on your important things to do, hmm?_

_ You are very close to being put through unspeakable torture for the headache you've been giving me the past years._

_ You've already threatened me with that. Don't you have anything new?_

Harry got the snarl through the bond loud and clear._ I take that as a no?_

_ Ugh, tell me what you want and then leave me alone._

_ Just to answer a few questions. Does that sound so hard?_

_ Fine. Hurry it up._

_ Great. Firstly, this Hogwarts school, you went there didn't you?_

_ Yes._

_ When did you go there?_

_ Before you were born. _came the snarky reply.

_ Okay then. Why am I not supposed to trust Dumbledore? And does the same go for this McGonagall woman?_

_ Dumbledore is a scheming old man. It would be foolhardy to take anything he says as truth. Though he will most likely say little, and imply much, leaving you to draw your own conclusions. Usually wrong conclusions. McGonagall is his second in command, so the same goes for her, though I am not fully sure of her motives, she will back Dumbledore in any venture. You will have to watch the both of them when you arrive at Hogwarts._

_ Hmm. _Harry scanned the letter again, and was reminded of a past puzzlement.

_ What's the 'Supreme Mugwump'?_

_ The title for the head of the International Confederation of Wizards._

Harry was sidetracked briefly._ How on earth did they come up with that?_

_ The term 'Mugwump' refers to a leader, derived from an Algonquian word meaning 'great chief'. _Tom sounded like he was reciting from a history book. A dry, boring one. Harry told him such.

Tom got angry,_ If you don't want to know, then don't ask! Now, was there anything else you wanted to bother me with?_

Sufficiently chastened Harry apologized, was ignored, and moved on with the interrogation.

_Do you know why my parents were famous?_

_ Yes,_ Tom sounded bitter.

Harry waited a minute. _Are you going to tell me?_

_ No._

_You're insufferable, you know that?_

_ Yes, I'm aware._

Harry sighed. Some people you just couldn't insult._ Tom, what, exactly, did you learn at Hogwarts?_

_ Me? I learned to manipulate people so they thought you were a god, god was the devil, wrong was right, and right was wrong. I learned how to gather an army of loyal followers._

_ I was being serious._

_ So was I._

There was silence for a moment before Tom continued.

_ They teach, _the word was laced with sarcasm_, incredibly basic spells, enchantments, and potions theory. If you want to learn anything 'useful' while you're there you'll have to find it on your own time._

_ Sounds promising. I'll work on that. One last thing._

_ Make it quick._

_ You told me you were telling the truth, on all of the things you used tell me. All of them, right?_

_ Yes?_

_ So the one about you being a supremely powerful EVIL dark wizard? That was true?_

_ What do you think?_

And Tom slammed down his barriers, so Harry couldn't talk to him anymore. He could try, but defending his own mind and breaching someone else's were vastly different. He didn't like doing it, and Tom routinely took advantage of his reluctance.

Harry scowled in the darkness, the fire had just gone out. He rolled over, pulling the coat around him and ignored the smell. He closed his eyes and let out a whoosh of air. Maybe he could get more out of Tom in the morning.

Despite being a bloody git and a right pain in the neck whenever he could, Harry liked him. Tom had odd moments of, if not kindness, then less than his usual indifference, though these times were not to be mentioned. Ever. They were denied as delusions and Tom made a point to be extra nasty for a few weeks after. Harry was worried for him, though he wouldn't be telling Tom that, it would be dismissed as trivial and pointless. Still, Harry would be sure to find out who Tom was, and why he was in hiding as soon as possible.

XXXXXXXXXX

The dream began differently than Harry's normal nighttime occurrences. For one, he knew he was dreaming and the whole thing had an odd clarity to it like some of his stranger dreams did.

He saw in a cavern; he thought it was underground from the water dripping slowly down the walls and moss covering everything. It was not a pleasant place. He turned to get a better view of the whole thing and his vision spun. Feeling queasy he looked up; now he was in a larger room, with the same features as the previous one, only as if it had been grander back in its day.

The sickly green moss covered marble statues that rose from the ground and would have towered over him. A stone cobbled path lead from in front of Harry to the opposing wall where it narrowed and disappeared into a dark opening. Harry was looking down upon the room from a another marble statue that towered above the rest, centered against the back wall and appearing to be the main feature of the room, framed as it was by the path and smaller statues. As if to make it seem that much mightier, that much more important. Harry fidgeted and tried to climb down, eyes widening and panic flowing though him when he discovered he suddenly couldn't move.

He stopped trying to move and froze when he heard a clacking from the dark opening across the room. A few seconds later and a young boy wearing….robes? came into view. He was holding a bag and Harry was having very bad feelings on what was in it. Nothing to base it on, just instinct. That, and the whole place was giving him the creeps. Who would voluntarily come here?

The boy came to stand in front of the enormous statue Harry was seated on, but didn't notice him at all. Harry had the feeling that even if the boy was looking straight at him, he still wouldn't notice.

The boy raised his arms and hissed. Harry was staring at him with something akin to shock. He had just _hissed_, like a snake in the zoo, but there had somehow been words too. There weren't just words or hissing but words within the noise.

_:Speak to me Slytherin! Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!:_

The statue began to rumble and Harry clenched his jaw, and wished with everything he had to wake up. It didn't work. Forced to voyeur and unable to flee, he watched as something huge began to emerge. He saw the head appear beneath him and was filled with a nameless primal horror. Surely this creature would be able to sense his presence. _Wake up, wake up, wake up. I want to leave! Now, NOW!_

As if his refusal to watch made a slight bit of difference, the scene stopped and faded into a neutral gray. Harry was on his knees in the middle of it, trying to relearn how to breathe. Some shaky breaths later, he looked up and got, wobbling, to his feet.

The longer he looked around him, the more muddled things became except for a few spots of light here and there, bobbing slightly. He reached over to one a foot away and, not at all convinced it was a good idea, grabbed it in his fist. The light sank into his skin and disappeared. Harry opened his hand to find an empty palm, only to be caught off guard when the floor opened and swallowed him whole, closing when a final sounding snap.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry jolted awake, early the next morning to find sunlight blinding his eyes. He shook his head, trying to get both halves of the dream out of his head. The later part had not been quite so realistic, much like standing in air watching a slideshow of images he couldn't make sense of. Two children he'd never seen playing on a cliff, a musty, creaking house, a strict looking woman with shrewd eyes, and, what disturbed him the most, a white rabbit hanging from a ceiling beam. The last had been among many he wished he hadn't seen but it had been the one to finally jerk him from sleep.

Harry shuddered. He hated these dreams. They were seldom pleasant and often impossible to forget. _It was just a dream._ He told himself firmly. _Just a dream. Don't let it bother you. It's not real._

He blinked and looked up from the floor toward a sudden tapping noise.

Unable to see its source, he sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was still asleep on the sofa, snoring, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

_No, don't do that._

Harry tried to wave the bird out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

Harry leapt over to the couch and shook Hagrid's arm, trying to wake him up.

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. "He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags…finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

_Knuts?_

Tom chose this moment to reappear, _The small ones made of bronze._

Pondering Tom's sudden thoughtfulness, highly unusual, Harry counted out five of the little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Behind him, Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' but all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and examining them closely. He had just thought of something that had the potential to puncture his chances at this school.

Scrabbling on the floor for the piece of parchment he had the night before he wrote his concerns and then held it up to get Hagrid's attention.

{I haven't got any money. And Uncle Vernon said last night that he won't pay for me to go and learn magic.}

"Ah, yeh don't worry abou' that," said Hagrid pulling on his huge boots. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?" He stood up and scratched his head.

{But if their house was destroyed- }

Hagrid interrupted him before he could finish, "They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop for us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn't say no ter a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

{Wizards have special banks?}

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry almost dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

_Wizards, witches, and goblins_, he thought_, Am I right in assuming other 'mythological' creatures exist too?_

_You may be correct in this assumption._

_ Will you tell me about them later?_

_ No._ And the normal Tom was back. Hooray.

Hagrid was still going on, "-yeh'd have ter be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – gettin' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see."

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of eater in the bottom after the storm. Harry was amazed it wasn't at the bottom of the sea, let alone still floating.

Harry looked at his piece of parchment. He'd need more soon if he wanted to keep talking with Hagrid. He found a little more space to squeeze in another question though.

{How did you get here?}

Hagrid squinted down at it, then handed him a longer piece of parchment from one of his infinite pockets.

"Flew," he said, "but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still looking at Hagrid, with his head cocked a little to one side, trying to picture him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head, watching closely to see how Hagrid preformed magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

_I do wonder how he's managed to avoid being caught. He appears incapable of not using magic. Maybe Dumbledore gives bribes so they look the other way? _Tom wondered.

Harry shushed him and broke in his new writing space.

{Why would you be mad to try to rob Gringotts?}

"Spells – enchantments," said Hagrid, unfurling his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought this through while Hagrid read his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

{There's a Ministry of Magic?}

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts –"

_Did anyone ever think there was a reason for that?_

_Tom, what do you mean?_

Tom vibrated his irritation and didn't say anything else.

"-so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every mornin' askin' fer advice."

{But what does a Ministry of Magic do, exactly?}

"Well their main job is ter keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

{Why?}

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions ter their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passerby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

Harry kept writing as he jogged a bit to keep up with Hagrid's long stride.

{Did you say there were dragons at Gringotts?}

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

{You'd like a dragon?}

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry produced the parchment envelope out if his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded the second piece of paper he'd glanced at last night and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

Harry snorted quietly. _Black robes and pointy hats? That's so… stereotypical._

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Books of Spells (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic _

by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_

by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_

by Emeric Switch

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standerd size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Harry was eying the book list with a concerned view.

{Can we buy all this in London?}

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. they passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street filled with ordinary people.

"This is it," said Hagrid coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have known it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clamping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this – can this be -?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter…what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized him hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Harry hadn't the faintest clue what was going on. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Tom was disgusted.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand – I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle. Do you remember me?"

Harry nodded slowly, a long time ago, the strange man with the top hat had bowed to him in a shop. Aunt Petunia had been angry, he recalled, and had locked him in his cupboard for day, pushing food through a slot.

"He remembers!" cried Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you see that? He remembers me!"

Harry shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you. I'll b-be t-teaching D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," he muttered, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-Not that you n-need it, eh P-P-Potter?" he laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all you equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

By this time Harry had arrived at the reasonable conclusion that all wizards were touched in the head, except for that one, the Professor Quirrell. He got the feeling that that there was something….something _off_ about him, he just didn't know what.

_Tom, what was with all of them? Why were they talking like that?_

_ How should I know?_

_ Because you always know these kinds of things._

_ Do I really?_

Harry's attempt to pry answers out of Tom was interrupted by Hagrid grinning down at him.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

Harry eyed the half of parchment paper he had left.

{Is he always that nervous?}

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter some firsthand experience…They say he meet vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella?"

_So not just wizards, witches, and goblins, but vampires, hags, and dragons too?_ Harry was wrapping his mind around that while Hagrid appeared to be counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up…two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough for even Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

**A/N: Well that was a rather long chapter wasn't it? Ha-ha, Tom knows all and he's not telling~ If you figure out what's up with the dreams you get points, big points. Again sorry for the delay and all that. I'm going to answer some of the more popular questions I've been getting below:**

** Does Tom know who Harry is?**

** Yes, he does. He figured it out in the three year time gap when they first began Occlumency lessons. He just doesn't see the need to call Harry by name because he's literally IN HIS HEAD. He just talks and Harry knows he's being addressed.**

** Why is Harry mute?**

** This was a big one and it kind of surprised me. He's mute because of psychological trauma at such a young age. I hoped that was conveyed in the opening paragraph but I guess not. **

** I, being the wonderful writer that I am, am replying to my reviews now. Not all of them, just the ones with input, or questions asked. So if you want to know something, just ask. :) The poll is still up on my profile, and it will remain there until Harry gets to Hogwarts, so please visit and vote. You'll be contributing to the story and you'll get a warm, fuzzy feeling. Try it and prove me wrong. Thanks to the people who have already voted. Review, comment, and all that good stuff.**


	5. Ollivanders

**A/N: Hello all. I know, I know. I'm terrible, I'm late (again), you hate me, but read and it will all wash away. Thanks everyone who voted on my poll and contributed to my thought process for the future plot. You're all awesome. **

**And to whoever reviewed anonymously under the name 'Verito' I would love to answer your questions, but ran into the whole anonymous problem. Correction to my earlier A/N: I will reply to SIGNED reviews who ask questions. Good? Great! **

**Special thanks to my friend DestinyCrusader who nagged me until I discovered the inspiration to finish this chapter. You're amazing. Some rather important news at the bottom so be nice and read it when you get there. Also, I have no beta so sorry for any grammar/ spelling/ punctuation mistakes you may find. Onward with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Harry Potter in this universe. I my universe sure, but unless you look outside and see my Legions of Terror patrolling the streets, this is not that universe. Sad, I know. I adopted the idea for this story from PlotBunny2010. **

Speech= "blah"

Thoughts= _blah_

Written= {blah}

Parseltongue= :blah:

A/N= **blah**

Chapter 5: Ollivanders

Hagrid grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway sink instantly back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one o' those," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished they had more time or that Hagrid would slow down a tad. His mind was straining under the pressure to absorb everything at once. He glanced in all directions as they walked taking in his surroundings: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

A soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with 9 in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand – fastest ever –"

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry's never seen before and had an urge to examine them more closely, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a gleaming white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished brown doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked in, and Harry nodded back politely. Hagrid did not. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take head_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of those. Hagrid made for the counter with Harry trailing behind him.

"We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe," said Hagrid to a free goblin.

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Harry felt Tom almost perk up in attention. He shook his head slightly, keeping his gaze on the goblin that was now weighing golden blocks, and listened closer to the conversation going on near him.

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook turned out to be yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall. Harry glanced back to see the goblin brushing crumbs off his ledger with a look of extreme distaste on his features. He looked up, saw Harry watching, gave a small almost smile and raised a one long spindly finger to his lips to indicate quiet. Harry blinked and nodded. The goblin turned away as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Harry wrote quickly, {What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?}

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me, see? More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised, but hid it quickly. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it became impossible. The rattling seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once he could have sworn he saw a burst of fire and a flash of diamond scales at the end of a passage but before he could twist around to glimpse the dragon they were plunged even deeper. They swept past an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Harry glanced back at Hagrid who was looking quite green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

"Ach, I think I'm gonna be sick."

_Pathetic_, Tom remarked.

Harry sighed at the lack of understanding he was forced to deal with but upon further examination of the giant, he realized that it was indeed an amusing picture

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry's mouth fell open in shock. Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver and heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's – it was an incredible sight. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained, while he was in the same room no less, about how much Harry cost them to keep? And all this time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms; we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go a little more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder as they hurtled down round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to see a blur of water at the dark bottom before Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. That was the first thing Harry noticed, aside from that it looked the exact same as the vaults to the left and right.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers, and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped there," said Griphook.

{How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?}

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

_Watch closely_, he was instructed by an impatient Tom.

_Yeah, yeah._

Harry leaned forward to try to see what all the fuss was about, but thought at first that it was a hoax, until he noticed a grubby, little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry wanted to ask Hagrid what it was but knew he wouldn't be getting any answers, so he turned to Tom.

_It was a small bundle. Was that what you were looking for?_

_ Yes it was. They are taking it to Hogwarts to keep it safe. Fools._

_ Why are they being foolish?_

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't move too much on the way back, it's best if I keep meself still," said Hagrid.

_Come on Tom, give me some answers._

_ Don't be impatient. Give it some time, and you'll find out on your own. _

_ Why would I want to do that if you could just tell me?_

There was a moment of silence.

_It's more fun my way._

_ You're being childish._

_ Shut up._

_ Make me._

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry was considering how much money he'd have left over after buying his school supplies as Tom had told him, more like ordered, that he had to buy some extra things. The greedy git. He knew that he was probably holding more money than he'd ever had in his whole life – more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, trying not to feel nervous.

_Disgusting._ Tom remarked.

_What now?_

_ If I had someone in my employ who wandered off to drink while on guard duty, they would be extensively tortured and then dismissed from service._

Harry blinked, not sure if he was kidding. _Don't you think that's just a mite harsh?_

_No._

…._What do you mean guard duty?_

_ He was supposed to be guarding you, if you missed that touching little scene in that revolting pub, you're a high priority target._

_ Why?_

_ I will not discuss this. The woman in front of you wants your attention._

_ We will talk about this later._

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length,

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

Harry nodded.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was reminded of a slightly more friendly, less fat version of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

Harry shook his head.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

Harry shook his head, and wondered offhand how long it would take the boy to notice he couldn't talk. By the way he was going on, it would be quite a while, Harry decided.

_What's Quidditch?_

_ A boring pastime designed to dull your mind and leave you vulnerable to the sway of the mass crowds._

Right. Forgot who I'm asking. The King of No Fun. _Never mind, I'll ask someone else._

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Harry shook his head again, and decided he liked the boy; he was irritating but still nice. Asking simple yes or no questions, that he could work with.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry shrugged, wondering what Hufflepuff and Slytherin were.

"Do you even speak at all?" the boy joked.

Harry shook his head.

"Oh, sorry."

Harry shrugged again. _It's okay._

Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry hopped down from the footstool.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," said the drawling boy, cheerfully, waving goodbye, then getting chastened for moving.

Harry waved back then headed for the front doors, seeing Hagrid standing there with two large ice creams and grinning at him.

Harry thought about some of the things the boy in Madam Malkin's had said as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him, chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills, and Harry like the bottle of ink that he found that changed color as you wrote. When they left the shop he wrote:

{Hagrid, what's Quidditch?}

"Blimey Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know – not knowin' about Quidditch!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. It wasn't a very pleasant feeling to have ignorance rubbed in your face at every turn.

{So, what is it?}

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like football in the Muggle world – everyone follows Quidditch – played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls – sorta hard to explain the rules."

_Helpful._

{And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?}

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but…yeh know."

{I bet I'll end up in Hufflepuff.} Harry wrote gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

{Who?}

"Ah, never mind. It was years an' years ago."

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read under any circumstances, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these.

Harry quietly slipped several of the postage stamp books into his bag when Hagrid wasn't looking on the instructions of Tom. He had been directed to one with a soft green cover with words so small they were barely legible, and four more with purple, red, black, blue, and grey covers, respectively. He thought he saw something about Curses though with his eyesight, he couldn't be sure.

Next they bought a nicely sized pewter cauldron, a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages.

Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potions ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes at five Knuts a scoop.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red. No one ever really cared about his birthday.

{You don't have to –}

"I know I don't have to." Hagrid interrupted. "Tell yeh what; I'll get yer an animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at. Come on, yeh can pick what yeh want." Hagrid said, as he dragged Harry into the Magical Menagerie.

"Go on, pick whatever yeh like."

Harry looked around at the cages stacked on top of one another. He inched closer to one of the ones on the bottom, and then leaped back when something crashed against the cage door. Resolving to stay far away from whatever that was, he walked over to the other end of the store, where some muttering was drifting toward him.

It died down when he got closer, then sprang up again.

_:Another one comesss:_

_ :Here to choose usss:_

_ :Let'sss bite it:_

_ :Kill it:_

_ :Kill it:_

_ :Kill:_

_ :Kill:_

_ :Kill:_

_Hello?_ Harry tried, a bit creeped out.

_:Hear'sss uss it doesss:_

_ :Can't:_

_ :Human'sss can't listen:_

_ :Listen to usss:_

_ :Just kill it:_

The chants to kill started up again.

_:Quiet:_ this one was softer than the others but somehow felt deeper, older.

The other voices fell away one by one.

_:Who speaksss?:_

_ Ah, I do,_ said Harry, amazed that they could hear him like Tom could. _Where are you?_

_ :In front of you mortal wizard:_

Harry glanced down at the snake filled cages and shook his head. _The snakes?_

_ :Not just sssnake: _it protested_ :King of the Cobras, Sanajeh Indicus:_

_ Um, alright. Why can you hear me?_

_ :We hear what is ssspoken in a way like to usss, not the vile tongue the otherss use:_

_ Others?_

_ :Wizardsss: _said one.

_ :Witchesss: _another chimed in.

_:Mortalsss:_ said a third.

_ :Humans: _the voice concluded._ :There hasss not been a Speaker in many yearsss:_

_ :Why are you here Speaker?:_

_ :Why?:_

_ :Why?:_

_ :Do you require ssservice?:_

_ :We can kill for you:_

_ :Ssslowly:_

_ :Painfully:_

_ :Quickly:_

_ :We are invisssible:_

_ :We are eternal:_

_ :We will fight, if you asssk it:_

_ No. I don't need you to kill for me! _

_ :Then what do you need?:_

_ :Why are you here?: _was asked by many at the same time.

Harry resisted the impulse to clap his hands over his ears. How did normal people stand it every day, having all those people talking to them at the same time. It was confusing.

_Who wants to leave this place? _he tried to ask.

_ :Why?:_

_ :Why does the Speaker asssk this?:_

_ I'm supposed to choose someone here to take with me. So, who wants to go?_

_ :Me, me:_

_ :I want to go with the Speaker:_

_ :You be quiet:_

_ :I will go, and ssslay the enemiesss of the Speaker:_

_ :No, I want to go:_

_ :Sssilence: _it came from the ancient voice again. _:I will go and protect the Speaker and kill hisss enemiesss:_

There were no objections.

_ Okay then, _Harry coughed._ Which one are you?_

_ :I am Sanajeh:_

_ I meant which holder?_

_ :Next to your right hand:_

Harry bent down to glance in the cage nearest to his hand. Red eyes stared back at him. In the cage was a pure white cobra, coiled so you couldn't tell how large it was. It's ruby eyes seemed to gleam as they stared into his eyes.

_Sanajeh?_

_ :Yesss:_

_ Alright. _Harry reached toward the door to unlock it.

"No, kid don't!" the shop keeper ran toward him, with fear on his face. "It'll kill you, don't let it out!"

Too late, though. The white snake was through the partially open door in a flash and up Harry's arm. A second later and it was coiled peacefully around his shoulders.

Harry tentatively stroked the scales, and relaxed when he felt his companion do so as well.

He reached for his parchment.

{I'll take this one please.}

"Wha-? Bu-? That should be –" the keeper stuttered.

Hagrid too was looking at funny.

{What? He's very nice.}

_:Don't tell them that. I would gladly bite them:_

Harry looked down at Sanajeh, and raised an eyebrow. _No biting, please._

{I'll take him.} he repeated.

"If yer sure, Harry" said Hagrid as he paid for the cobra, still staying a distance away from the rather intimidating snake.

_I'm sure. _

_ Hey Tom! _he called.

_ :Who isss thisss Tom?:_

_ He's in my head from time to time. Don't mind him._

_ What do you want? _came the irritated reply.

_Can all wizards talk to snakes?_

There was a long pause.

_No. Why?_

_ Because a whole bunch of them started talking to me._

_ You are completely sure?_

_ Pretty sure._

_ :Do not insssult my massster, the Speaker:_

Harry's grasp on what Tom was feeling was shaky but he could have sworn that he was surprised, shocked even.

_ That was Sanajeh, my snake._

_ I must…think on this._

_ What? Wait!_

Tom was gone again.

_Great, fat lot of help he turned out to be._

_ :Don't worry massster, I will eat all of your enemiesss:_

_ Yeah, thanks Sanajeh, but let's hold off on the killing and eating for now, okay?_

_ :If massster wishesss:_

_ Yes, I do._

_ :Then it sshall be done:_

_Thanks._

They walked out of the Magical Menagerie a few seconds later. Harry blinked several times in the bright light and looked down at Sanajeh, who was hissing.

_Would you like to wait it the basket?_

The baffled owner had given them a large wicker basket with a cover and handle to carry the snake.

Sanajeh didn't reply only slithering down into the pseudo darkness without protest.

{Thanks, Hagrid.}

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect yeh've had a lotta presents from the Dursleys. Jus' want ter be sure that's what yeh really want."

Harry nodded.

"Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Harry shrugged, he wasn't sure about this. A magic wand just sounded so improbable.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he considered a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and set the basket very gently on the floor. He looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling . For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

Harry nodded in an attempt to be polite, but he felt it was just awkward.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightening scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

_What? I thought I got it in a car crash, but Hagrid said they weren't in a car crash. So someone gave me this scar? Did they kill my parents? I've got to get Hagrid to explain what happened._

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er – yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet, while Harry watched with interest. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noted that he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Harry assumed he meant the dominant arm, and raised his right hand.

"Hold out you arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry was eying the tape measure, now measuring between his nostrils, that had been moving on its own for some time. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, feeling foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his had almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –"

Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no – here ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was growing higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He waved it through the dusty air and a stream of silver and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious…curious…"

{Sorry,} Harry wrote {but _what's_ curious?}

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry blinked.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry blinked again, recalling Hagrid mentioning something about that too. He'd have to ask Tom or maybe Sanajeh. Harry wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, collected the basket from the floor, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

XXXXXXXXXX

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry was deep in thought as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how many people were gaping at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the large cobra asleep in its basket on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Hagrid was looking at him funny again.

"You all right, Harry?" he asked.

He nodded, then wrote {I'm just wondering, why won't you tell me why my parents are famous. Who was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and why was Mr. Ollivander expecting great things from me? I just don't know enough.}

Hagrid looked uncomfortable. "I'm not really the right person ter tell yeh all that. But don' worry, Harry, yeh'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, just threaten' em with a snout ter match the tail…See yeh soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry turned around to see Hagrid waving goodbye out the window, but he blinked and Hagrid was gone.

**A/N: Huh! Writing homicidal reptilian creatures was a lot easier than I thought it'd be! In this chapter I was kind of experimenting with dialogue so apologies for the lack of HarryTom interaction that I know you all love. As you may (or not) know, my school year has started so I'm having some problems finding good quality time to bond with my computer. Updates will probably be sporadic at best or nonexistent at worst, so sorry for the future wait. Savor the chapter, as it could be the last you get for a while. Now that thought makes us both sad. But remember! I will persevere! And your wonderful, thoughtful reviews help me to do so. And so do votes on the poll in my profile. Bye-bye now. **


	6. Spartan Methods

**A/N:**** Hello everybody! *ducks thrown objects* You know how you can have days where it's just not worth getting out of bed? Yeah, I had two months like that. Sorry, so sorry for the lateness, but RL reared its ugly face at the most inopportune of times.**

**I didn't really have warm and fuzzies about this chapter but I felt bad about the wait so DON'T JUDGE ME! T^T**

**Okay this chapter is dedicated to Gravind Divine, who will give me my cookie and stop threatening me with a pitchfork. Please don't cry, I know you do it out of love.**

**Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Harry Potter in this universe. In my universe sure, but unless you look outside and see my Legions of Terror patrolling the streets, this is not that universe. Sad, I know. I adopted the idea for this story from PlotBunny2010.**

Speech= "blah"

Thoughts= _blah_

Written= {blah}

Parseltongue= :blah:

A/N= **blah**

Chapter 6: Spartan Methods

_Tom?_ Harry called quietly, _Tom, can I ask you something?_

_ You already have, _a voice responded dryly,back in Harry's head again almost 24/7 without explanation for his sudden disappearance a week ago. Not that an explanation hadn't been demanded of him of course, more like he was pretending that it had never happened.

_Something else?_ Harry tried, frustrated.

_And there it goes._

_Aw, c'mon! I just want to ask you about this stupid book, you know, with your amazing genius abilities you brag about all the time._

_ I do not brag, _the last word was laced with disgust_, and I don't recall ever uttering the phrase, 'amazing genius abilities,' to you._

_ Well good for you, _Harry said, sitting up on what he still thought of as Dudley's bed. He was surrounded by piles of books, some resting open on their spines, others stacked precariously on the floor, and still more scattered around on top if the bedspread.

_But according to this_, he waved _Magical Theory_ around in the air for emphasis, _I'm in trouble._

_You usually are but what reason in particular this time?_

Harry sighed and dropped the book, rubbing his eyes.

_All it talks about are spells, which is good I suppose, but it states here that you have to speak them out loud with a special pronunciation for them to work, sort of like a direct focus for magical energy._

He blinked and shook his head. _I just sounded crazy didn't I?_

_Of course it does_, said Tom, completely ignoring his last statement, _that thing_, thing apparently referring to the book in question, _is so basic that all it would have are verbal spells. I abhor the educational standards these days._

_ So there are non… verbal spells? _He spoke hesitantly, ignoring Tom almost as neatly as he ignored Harry.

_Naturally, idiot._

_No need to be insulting_, Harry said mildly, _can you tell me about them?_ He waited a beat. _Please?_

_Since you asked nicely._

Harry could feel a tick going over his right eye.

_Nonverbal spells are commonly used to gain an advantage over an opponent once verbal spells have been mastered or partially mastered at least because they are substantially more difficult to learn. I knew about them in my third year but the teachers didn't cover it in classes until fifth year. You will have to learn to utilize them properly immediately._

_ And how much harder are they to use than normal ones?_

_ It will be substantially easier for you to learn since your mind is exercised almost daily, but it will still be challenging at first. You need a large amount of focus and control, something you significantly lack; however, once you start practicing they'll come as easy as thinking about it._

It did not escape Harry's attention that Tom had avoided answering the question. He groaned silently. _This is impossible._

_No it is not. You protested that learning Occlumency and Legilimency was, as you put it, 'absolutely totally completely insane.' This will be easy compared to the pitiful attempts you were making at that._

Harry sputtered incoherently, outraged. _That's because you were practically molesting my mind until I agreed to learn!_

_As I remember it didn't take very long for you to give in._

_And after that you were harassing me every damn day –_ Harry carried on, approaching a full on rant.

_Enough._ Tom sounded amused rather than irritated which didn't do much in the way of calming Harry down. _We start practice now._

_What, but - ?_

_Now. Put that useless book on the floor._

Harry groped for the book and gently placed it next to the bed on the floor. Maybe it would shut him up.

_Good, focus all of your attention on the book._

_ Right. Focused._

_ Repeat after me, Wingardium Leviosa._

_ …Are you serious?_

_ Repeat. The words. _Tom did not sound pleased.

_Fine. Wingardium Leviosa._

There was no visible change to the book.

_Do it again._

_ Wingardium Leviosa._ Harry waited. _I feel ridiculous_.

_Again._

_ Wingardium Leviosa._ Nothing. _Should I be using the stick for this?_

_ Stic- ? No, you must learn basic spells without the aid of a wand. Not a stick, refer to it as a wand from now on. Again. _

_ So you're telling me to ride a bike for the first time without training wheels? How does that make sense?_

_ Just do it! _Harry had finally pushed Tom to anger. He felt a vague sense of satisfaction.

_Okay, okay. Wingardium Leviosa. _Harry stared at the stupid thing _willing_ it to do something. Twitch, turn red, spontaneously combust, anything but just lying there mocking him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tom.

_What is this supposed to do actually?_

_ Agai– _

_ I know, alright already, geez. _Harry was now eyeing the book with every gram of loathing he'd built up in the hours he'd spent reading it.

_ Wingardium Leviosa!_

The book rippled under his gaze and then slowly, slowly began to rise. It was up at bed level in seconds then at an incredulous Harry's eye level, then even higher still.

Harry blinked as it approached the ceiling.

_How high is it going to - ?_

_ Careful._

The spell broke and the book plummeted toward the ground only to be snatched out of the air before it could slam on the floor and alert the Dursleys.

_The-the book,_ Harry stuttered, _how?_

_Magic._ A pause. _Obviously._

_ You have to insult my intelligence, don't you? Even when I do things right._

_ It took that many tries to achieve such a basic spell. Shameful. When you can lift and lower it three times in succession you can stop. Now, do it again._

_ Seriously?_

_ Hurry it up, I haven't got all night._

_ Ugh, Wingardium Leviosa!_

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry cracked open his eyes the next morning wondering why the light was so bright and who he should file a letter of complaint to in order to get it turned off at sensible hours like – he opened his eyes further to see that it was not, as he feared, unholy sunlight but his ceiling light. A glance at the window told Harry it was still early. Too early.

Harry sat up rubbing the spots out his eyes. He must have passed out with the lights still on sometime during Tom's Spartan-style teaching.

Tom had not been satisfied with Harry lifting and lowering the book, oh no. After that had come sideways, loop de loops, and then, to top it all off, multiple levitations at once; which was most certainly more difficult than Tom had let on. Harry had been restacking books _in mid air_ for hours until Tom had deemed him, "passable."

It must have been shortly after that Harry fell asleep because he couldn't remember any more. He squinted and the windows and sighed. It was probably time he ought to start breakfast anyways.

After his return from Diagon Alley, his life had improved in many ways but still fundamentally remained the same in many ways. For one, Dudley was now so sacred of Harry he had developed a tendency of screaming and running from the room whenever Harry walked in. It was all very gratifying after all the unpleasantness he'd had to deal with in the past.

The Dursleys had also changed their attitudes, a little. They were now treating any space he happened to occupy like it was empty, but still expected him to cook all their meals and clean the house. In addition, they were making him taste everything he served them in case of poison, though with what he hadn't the slightest idea; glass cleaner maybe.

They were almost laughably afraid of Sanajeh. The first time they'd seen him outside his basket, he was slithering along the wall of their master bedroom. Aunt Petunia had screamed loud enough to wake the dead, along with Harry from a light sleep. Harry had jolted out of bed looking for an intruder in time to hear Uncle Vernon bellow as he tripped over his feet in his haste to get to a newly purchased gun.

By the time they had regained some semblance of sense, Sanajeh was safely back in the smallest bedroom being admonished through a fit of silent giggles.

_You could have been shot!_

_ :Would not have causssed much damage:_

Harry was briefly sidetracked, were ancient snakes bulletproof? Or just the magic ones? Shaking his head he tried to focus on the main problem.

_What were you thinking?_ Harry demanded.

_:I wasss going to eliminate the large humans and sssecure Massster lodgingsss more sssuficient for hisss ssstation:_

Harry found this highly amusing but still tried to reinforce that biting people was a bad idea.

_:Why isss bad? Isss helping Massster:_

_ Yeah, and I really appreciate it, but you can't do that kind of thing here. People will come and take you away, and probably me too. They'll lock us up in a cage for a long time._

_ :Like the place I dedicated myssself to Massster's ssservice?:_

_ Exactly! _Harry was pleased that he'd finally gotten the point across.

_ :Eliminate thossse people too:_

Or maybe not.

_Listen, you just can't go around biting people on a daily basis, _Harry sighed, reduced to repetition_, unless it's a life threatening emergency, _he stressed_._

_:Place of lodging not emergency?:_

_ Not a life threatening one, no._

The snake pondered this notion for a moment.

_ :If isss Massster's wish, Sanajeh will not bite mortalsss:_

_ Yes, thank you, _Harry sighed with relief.

_:Unless emergency:_ Sanajeh added slyly.

_Ugh_, Harry groaned, giving up. _Sure._

And that was pretty much the end of that, though now the stubborn cobra was required to stay in Harry's room at all times. Harry had the distinct feeling that his wishes were not being carried out, however, as Sanajeh kept showing up with oddly shaped lumps and refused to eat any of the packaged food Harry tried to sneak to him.

Harry smiled ruefully and shook his head at his troublesome pet as he crept down the stairs, wincing at every creak. The yelling when he woke Uncle Vernon early was almost as bad as when the food wasn't ready when they did get up.

_Just let the snake kill them and be done with it._

_ Yes, thank you for the advice_, Harry said sarcastically, opening the door to the kitchen and flipping on the lights, _but did you fail to witness the conversation I had to stop the snake from biting them?_

He set the stove and started rummaging in the fridge for available ingredients.

_A complete waste of time._

_ Has anyone ever told you that you're just a little too bloodthirsty? _Harry cracked several eggs on the edge of the pan.

_ None have dared._

_ Well maybe there's a reason for that, _Harry said as he placed strips of bacon beside the eggs.

_ There was; I was fearsome and terror inspiring._

_ Really? _Harry started the toast and got out the butter to soften, while sizzling sounds emitted from the pan and a delicious smell filled the air.

_ Don't get smart with me._

_ Lighten up. _From upstairs came steady thuds as either Uncle Vernon or Dudley shuffled toward and down the stairs.

Harry very carefully kept his attention focused on the pan on the stove as he heard the door open behind him.

_I wonder if they can sense food even when unconscious._ It was an idle thought.

_More than likely._

_ That was a private thought, you know._

_ Then you should have taken measures to keep it such._

A summon of "Boy!" turned Harry to see Uncle Vernon seated at the kitchen table.

"Bring food," was ordered while subtly inching toward the side of the table furthest away from Harry.

Harry sighed, business as usual, and went about setting the table. By the time he was forking bacon and eggs onto plates, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had arrived in the kitchen, though Dudley was attempting to hide behind his mother, a feat made difficult by the fact that he was four times wider than her.

Harry sat down to eat his meager portion, but one bite in he was called past the invisible barrier that separated him and the Dursleys to taste test. He handily ignored the way Dudley flinched as he came near to take a small bite of eggs and nibble on the bacon.

_Mmm, delicious if I do say so myself. Could use a bit of salt._

_ How idiotic._

_Must you always – oh crap._

Going back around to his chair, Harry had accidentally brushed against Dudley's arm causing him to squeal, leap from his seat, and sprint for the door quickly followed by Petunia.

"Mom! MOM! He's touched me! What if I get infected?" came howling from the hall.

"Calm down Diddykins, you'll be okay, we just need to wash it off," she sounded slightly panicked, "maybe take a whole shower to decontaminate you," her voice faded as they moved to the lavoratory.

_Do you think that was maybe just a tad dramatic? I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast._

_ Disgusting creature._

_ Yep, that might've gone better. _A pause._ Magic isn't contagious, is it?_

_ Apparently, muggle stupidity is._

_ I'll take that as a no._

_ You do that._

_ Always so supportive. _

Uncle Vernon was staring at him with a mixture of wariness and horror, almost like he was waiting to see how Harry would react.

_I don't suppose this would be a good time to ask for a favor, _Harry thought glumly.

_ So it does learn._

_ Quiet you._

Matching his uncle stare for stare, Harry sat down, shoveled in his eggs, washed his dishes and, still expecting an explosion, made for his room.

_I think it'll be safe to come down in a few days._

_ Coward._

_ Hey, you don't have to deal with them. I suppose that just had to happen now_, Harry sighed, starting to pace. _I have the worst luck_.

_Ignore them, they are ignorant lesser beings._

_But I need them to give me a ride to the station!_ Harry fought down panic,_ I can't just 'magic' my way to King's Cross.  
><em>  
><em>That would be debatable.<em>

Harry paused halfway across the room. _You mean I can?_

_Magic yourself there, as you so crassly put it, no. How far have you read in Hogwarts: A History? _It was one of several additional books Tom had told him to buy.

_Why do you ask?_ Harry said defensively, a little thrown by the sudden topic change.

_How. Far._ the words were clipped.

_Umm_, Harry stalled for time, _I haven't exactly…started?_ he made it a question.

There were several seconds of disgusted silence, and then –

_I have business to attend to. I will return in two hours by which time I expect you to be halfway done.  
><em>  
><em>Wha– ? Tom, that's not fair! That's got to be a thousand pages, at least. Its imposs-<br>_  
>Tom had already gone.<p>

_Bugger._ Harry cursed mildly, before diving for the book and flipping the dark brown cover open. He scanned pages at an almost frantic rate.

Thirty minutes later, Dudley had stopped crying and was tentatively inching his way out of the master bathroom with his mother right behind him. Harry barely heard him thudding down the stairs to the kitchen to finish his breakfast.

Forty five minutes later and Dudley was whining at the top of his lungs that he was hungry and needed more food. Harry failed to notice him at all this time.

One hour later and Harry was completely immersed in the world of words, seeing hidden passageways and moving staircases.

One and a half hours later, Harry was past the legends, myths, and rumors, and moving into the more technical details. Some meanings of words escaped him, but he still forged on alternatively fascinated by the complexity of it all and bored by short biographies of some such person.

Two hours later found Harry impatiently riffling through the gray stamp book. Admittedly, it was rather shocking when it swelled into a tome the size of an average gravestone, but Harry had gotten over it. He had been putting off reading it after a glance at its pompous title, _The Rigid and Impeccable Rules of Which our Society's Order and Decorum Depends, by Alphonse Binderpaboxy_, had sent shudders of disgust down his spine.

When he had questioned Tom's sanity in wanting this, the only reply he received was, _You must know the laws to the letter if you desire to escape their grasp._

Harry huffed irritably at the memory as he paged to the impressively large chapter that had to do with underage magic.

Tom made his presence known right on time. _And?_

_I only got 274 pages done but I think I know what you're getting at anyways, _Harry said, attention fixed on the passages of tiny text.

_Oh?_

_Apparition_, Harry said confidently, _but you do realize that I'll get caught by this 'Trace' as soon as I try, right?_

_How many times did you practice the levitation spell yesterday?_

Harry snorted with quiet disdain_. About a hundred more times than I'd have liked. _

_Yet no members of the Ministry have arrived at your doorstep. How could this be?_

Harry paused. It had honestly slipped his mind that yesterday was a deliberate act of magic. It had been wandless but the Trace should still have picked up on it.

_Was it because I didn't use a wand?_

_No. _Tom managed to sound exasperated and insulting at the same time_, and if you had finished to book I told you to read, then you would know that the Trace is activated only once a magical child has passed through the gates of Hogwarts._

_I, _Harryscratched his head ruefully_, hadn't gotten that far._

_Clearly._

_But, _he persevered_, apparition is supposed to be dangerous. That's why you have to be seventeen to take the test to do it, because you could accidentally splinch, _Harrystumbled over the unfamiliar word_, yourself and bleed to death._

_The level of gravity they add to the whole affair is ridiculous. It is nothing more than a different type of wandless nonverbal magic. Nothing to be concerned about._

_The thing we're already doing?_

_Yes, apparition is commonly thought to be difficult to learn because lesser wizards rarely bother to practice types of magic other than the basic wand swishing and yelling at the top of their lungs. Speaking of practice, we are moving on from levitation to more complicated spells. We'll start with Alohamora, the unlocking spell, and the featherweight charm._

Harry groaned at the thought of yet more work but nodded in weary resignation.

_Will this do? _Harry picked up a dark wooden box with a blindingly bright golden lock on the lid. Dudley had lost the key and after several attempts at smashing it open, abandoned it under his bed until Harry moved in and unearthed it.

_No I don't think so_, Tom sounded like he was looking forward to some nasty idea that Harry would no doubt be a part of, _but_ _I believe that your previous room of residence will serve nicely._

_You're joking._

_I've always found that some people need a little more encouragement to accomplish certain tasks. Go to it._

_Unbelievable._

Nonetheless, Harry trooped miserably down the stairs to crawl into his cupboard and shut the door behind him. A thought struck him that, with the right delivery, could get him out of this madness.

_The door locks from the outside, so this is futile. I might as well go back upstairs and work at that box._

_Wait for it._

A click as Vernon Dursley walked by and Harry was locked in the dark with a concrete floor and a colony of spiders for company.

Vernon called over his shoulder, "If you think that you need to be punished far be it from me to stop you," he slowly wheezed up the protesting stairs, "freak."

_You knew that would happen_, Harry accused.

_I may have had a suspicion. Now, the incantation is Alohamora. The faster you get it, the sooner you can get out._

_Is this what you meant by encouragement? It's an ultimatum!_

_So it is_, Tom conceded, _I'll be back in half an hour. If you haven't managed it by then there will be consequences, _and swept off to do his mysterious business.

_What the hell are you doing? Tom? _he got no reply._ Git._

Pushing away his concern – no, not concern, curiosity – about whatever Tom was off doing. Harry tried to concentrate on the lock that had held firm for the past eleven years of his life.

He placed a hand against the faded paint, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_Alohamora._

XXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later there was a faint click as the dead bolt slid over and Harry pushed the door open.

Seeing as he was technically early he snuck back upstairs and closed the door softly, and since he was still curious about the contents of the box, he retrieved it from the bed and tapped it lightly. The lock sprang open and fell to the floor.

Knowing Dudley and his fondness for collecting nasty things, he cautiously cracked open the lid and almost dropped it. It was stuffed to the brim with money! Rolls of bills, twenties, fifties, hundreds.

Harry's first thought was that Dudley must have been hoarding his Christmas money, then remembering that his cousin had no concept of saving, assumed that it was whatever spoils Dudley had managed to bully younger kids into stealing from their parents.

He wrinkled his nose at the dirty money but still relocked it and placed it back under the bed for safekeeping. It might come in handy one day.

_I see you managed to get yourself out once,_ Tom said snidely, _but you were far too slow._

_I had thirty minutes!_ Harry protested, indignant.

_You were expected to grasp the concept in thirty minutes, and be able to cast the spell at will at this point._

_ I can! _

_ Mediocrity_, Tom used the word like an insult, _next, you'll be utilizing the featherweight charm._

_ How is that useful? _

Tom gave a long suffering sigh, _Try to pick up your trunk._

Harry dragged it out of the closet and grabbed the handle with both hands, managing to lift it a few measly inches off the floor, arms shaking with the effort.

_ You are not to let go until you can successfully cast the charm._

Harry grit his teeth._ Can't._

_ You will, it goes like this…_

XXXXXXXXXX

After dropping the ridiculously heavy trunk a few times, much to Aunt Petunia and Tom's displeasure, Harry finally got the hang of it, despite the concentration issues of his aunt banging on the door yelling at him to keep it down and the buildup of lactic acid.

_You will have to do better_, Tom informed Harry as he stood, easily holding his trunk with one hand.

_I got it, didn't I? _Harry was far from thrilled after his latest exercise. _Has anyone ever told you that you're a Spartan teacher? Because they were spot on._

Tom ignored him to carry on, _You will have read The Standard Book of Spells by tomorrow and demonstrate the use of three spells. Should you accomplish this, I will teach you proper apparition. _

_I'm still pretty sure that's illegal, but alright, _Harry searched several stacks of books before coming up with the one he wanted, _I can do this, just you watch!_

Tom sent a good amount of skepticism then blocked him off again.

Harry scowled, but forced himself to pay attention to what he was doing. Soon enough he had regained his good mood and was thinking to himself, _Self-study, no more military practice sessions! _

**A/N: I must apologize for this chapter. It was supposed to go all the way to King's Cross station but it got too long. Next time, promise! Oh, and the poll is now closed, thank you everyone who voted. The results are:**

**1) Fred and George: 47**

**2) Hermione and Draco: 38 **

**3) Draco (plus Crabbe, Goyle, etc.): 35**

**And waaaaaay down at the bottom was:**

**Ron Weasley with a grand total of 3 votes! Hooray! I'm sorry, but someone needs to be the bad guy, and Ron is perfect for the job.**

**Also, I'm looking for a beta; PM me if you're interested. Reviews are love!**


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